


The World Unwinds

by ProxyOne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will, Dark Will, Hannibal in Love, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Rating May Change, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Top Hannibal, Topping from the Bottom, Will is ignoring his feelings, fucked up murder sex fantasies, gratuitous use of Oscar Wilde quotes, murder as dirty talk, probably going to be a fair bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProxyOne/pseuds/ProxyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to go this way.  They were supposed to die.  Who didn't die, falling all that way?  Hannibal and Will, that's who.  <i>When you hitch yourself to the devil</i>, Will mused, <i>it only makes sense that you share his luck.</i></p><p>But they didn't die.  And now Will has to decide what it is that he really, truly wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Complete My Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own

It wasn't supposed to go this way. They were supposed to die. Who didn't die, falling all that way? Hannibal and Will, that's who. _When you hitch yourself to the devil,_ Will mused, _it only makes sense that you share his luck._

But they didn't die. And now Will has to decide what it is that he really, truly wants.

 

It had been a month. A month since the the fall. A month since the ecstasy of what Will and Hannibal had done together. What they had _become_ together. A month that had passed in a haze of fevered fogginess, of running and never resting, Will constantly fearing that Jack was on their heels, that Hannibal was going to be taken from him and never given back. Jack had never arrived. That didn't mean he wouldn't, but so far at least, they were safe.

Will stood on the veranda of the house they were currently hiding in, leaning forward with his arms resting on the railing. Argentina. He never thought he'd really ever go anywhere, and yet here he was, on the run in _Argentina_ of all places. And that was after following Hannibal's ghost over what felt like half of Europe all those years ago. Will suppressed a laugh, knowing full well that if he let it out it would quickly turn manic. He was only just coming back to himself, the fever and infection from his wounds coming so close to ending him, and he was only just now beginning to even think about his feelings about what had happened to them. And he had a lot, all conflicting with each other, sometimes one emotion rising to prominence before a completely different one tackled it down, fighting for its own moment in the spotlight.

At that precise moment, Will was feeling giddy. He felt vulnerable, and _powerful_. He had helped Hannibal escape. He had run away with him, left himself dependent on him even as Hannibal had struggled to fix his own injuries. Hannibal could have killed him at any moment, as weak as Will was, but of all the things that Will knew he had to fear, that wasn't one that had any chance of actually coming to pass. He _knew_ that. It was about the only area he felt safe.

“Will?”

The voice behind him was soft, as though approaching a wounded animal. Which, Will thought wryly, wasn't too far from the truth. He sighed, turning to Hannibal and leaning back against the rail, elbows holding him up.

“You've been out here for hours now. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to come inside?”

“Yeah. It's...just a lot to take in.”

“Are you regretting your decision, Will?”

He didn't know how to answer that. Yes would be a lie, but so would no. Will remained silent, and despite Hannibal's face not appearing to change a bit, Will could still see the different emotions flitting across it. Surprise, for some reason. Anger. That was expected. Hurt. Yearning. Those two caused something to twist in Will's gut, and he averted his eyes.

“Come. You need to eat, Will.”

Hannibal's voice was as stoic as ever, calm and controlled, but Will couldn't help but flinch. He looked back up again to find Hannibal's face completely closed off, his eyes sliding away from Will's face to gaze towards the horizon.

“You still fear that I will hurt you.”

It was a statement, not a question, and it wasn't one Will could really argue with. Even if now it wasn't, strictly speaking, true. At least, not how Hannibal meant it. Will let out a huff, not quite laughter, and gave a half smile.

“You hold my leash now, Hannibal. There's nothing I could do about it if you tried.”

“Is that how you think I see you? As my pet?”

“Don't you? You've molded me, shaped me. _Trained_ me.”

“You are not my pet, Will. You are very much my equal.”

Will searched Hannibal's face for a hint of a lie, but he knew he wouldn't find one. He still wasn't sure what it meant, to be seen as Hannibal's _equal._ He was willing to bet that Hannibal didn't really know what that meant, either.

“Bedelia once told me you were doing what you thought best for me.”

“She was always astute.”

Will's hand drifted to his stomach, fingers ghosting over where the scar lay beneath his clothing. He felt Hannibal's gaze follow the path of his hand, but neither man commented on the gesture. Will doubted that Hannibal was very sorry about it. Or at all. Will had survived, had come back stronger, and he suspected that as far as Hannibal was concerned, that made it the right thing to do. He sighed again, pushing up so he was standing properly. His shoulder twinged, the stab wound from Dolarhyde still tender. He reached a hand up to massage it briefly, hand traveling further up to trace the jagged scar that ran, bright red, down the length of his cheek. He was never going to go unnoticed again, that much was true.

“Your scars make you who you are, Will.”

“Yeah, well I was never one for loudly proclaiming who I am.”

“Perhaps you should be. It's the world's great privilege, to have you in it.”

Hannibal fixed his gaze onto Will, as though willing him to see what Hannibal saw. Will felt a shiver run down his back. He didn't think he would ever get used to having Hannibal's attention fixed so firmly on him. He didn't want to ever get used to it. He wanted to feel that thrill for as long as he could get it to last. He didn't know what that said about him; didn't _want_ to know. He was sure Hannibal would have a few words on the matter, but it wasn't something he was going to be sharing with him to find out.

“You said something about eating.”

It wasn't the world's smoothest subject change, but Hannibal let it go, for which Will was exceedingly grateful.

“I did. Chiyoh was kind enough to leave us a few supplies before she left here this morning, so I've been able to put together a relatively nutritious meal. We'll have to go into Salta tomorrow to stock up though.”

Once again, Will wondered how exactly his life had ended up with him living outside Salta, Argentina, with possibly the world's worst serial killer who he should by all rights hate, but somehow does not. The house Chiyoh had chosen for them appeared rundown from the outside, but inside was clean and tidy, with all amenities working. Most importantly, they had no nearby neighbours from whom they had to hide. He idly thought that if they were to stay where they were, it would be an ideal place for a dog or two. If he ever felt like he could call somewhere with Hannibal Lecter home. As they entered the tiny kitchen, the smells of Hannibal's cooking floated towards them, and Will felt his mouth begin to water. It had been too long since he'd eaten something home cooked. Hannibal looked at him, his mouth quirked in an amused half grin, as though able to tell exactly what Will was thinking. Which he probably could; Will had always been able to be seen by Hannibal.

“It's nice to stop for a change. Eat something good.” he said as he sat down at the kitchen table, dinner already plated and waiting for him. It was a far cry from Hannibal's dining room in Baltimore, but Will didn't care. Something hot that didn't come from a can was about as close to heaven as he could imagine right now, and if that didn't sum up his life he didn't know what did.

“Do you remember much about our journey here yet, Will?”

Will paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, having to think. In truth, he didn't remember much after he had pulled them off the cliff, nothing with any clarity until a few days ago, just before they had arrived at this house. How Hannibal had managed to keep them afloat until Chiyoh arrived was a mystery to Will, as was the appearance of Chiyoh herself. He could remember snippets – a brief moment of lucidity on a boat somewhere, Hannibal standing over him and looking down with concern, the bumpiness of a journey in the back of a truck, but nothing that made any sense in any sort of context. All he knew was that somehow Hannibal had got him here, with Chiyoh's help, and now here they were. He shook his head.

“Nothing more than a few seconds here and there. There was a boat. And a truck. And now we're somehow in Argentina. How did you manage that with your gunshot wound, by the way?”

“It's amazing what pain one can fight through, given the appropriate motivation.”

“You like to remain cryptic and mysterious, don't you?” Will said, resuming his meal.

Hannibal gave what could loosely be described as a shrug.

“It isn't my intention to be so. There simply isn't anything else to say. I was shot, but your wellbeing was important enough to me to be able to get through it all. Chiyoh helped, of course. She stitched me where I couldn't do it myself, provided all the medications we both needed. And I was fortunate enough that the Dragon only shot to incapacitate, not kill. He must have been a very good shot, to miss everything that could have done real damage.”

Hannibal sounded faintly amused as he spoke, and Will was suddenly overcome with gratitude for Dolarhyde's skilled marksmanship. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Will could feel Hannibal watching him, but every time he stole a glance, the other man was concentrating on his own dinner. Will finished, pushing his plate away, full for the first time in weeks.

“So. You still haven't shown me the rest of this house yet.”

“I'm surprised you didn't look around yourself.”

“That would be rude, don't you think? You and Chiyoh are the ones who found this house. I'm just a guest here.

“You are never just a guest in my house, Will. This is as much your home as it is mine.”

Will did his best to damp down the rioting butterflies in his stomach, determined not to let himself lose control.

“Well then, show me around _our_ house.”

Hannibal smiled as he stood, a soft thing that Will didn't think he had ever seen before. He dropped his eyes again, suddenly self-conscious, and followed Hannibal out of the kitchen. The place was small – a kitchen, living room and laundry downstairs. Will followed Hannibal upstairs to where the bedrooms presumably were. Hannibal pointed to the a door on the left of the hallway.

“This is your bedroom. I took the liberty of asking Chiyoh to pick up some clothing for you. You'll find it in there. I gave her your size, in case you were wondering if they will fit. If you don't like what we picked out, we can buy you some more tomorrow. My bedroom is across the hall.”

Hannibal pointed to the door opposite, while Will took in everything he had just said. He tried very hard not to think about Hannibal measuring him up for clothing while he was unconscious.

“The bathroom is down the end of the hall. I'm sure the hose bath you took this morning wasn't adequate, so if you wish to take a shower you can go first. The water is hot.”

Will ignored the implication that he was beginning to smell in favour of focusing on the thought of hot water. He hadn't had a proper shower, with actual hot water, in what seemed like forever.

“Towels?” he asked, entering his room and studiously ignoring the faint disappointment that was clamouring to be heard that it was only _his_ room, and not _theirs._

“I've left some in the bathroom. I thought you would have had your shower before now.”

Will refused to rise to the bait, instead grabbing the first clean change of clothes that came to hand and making his way to the bathroom. As he shut the door, he met Hannibal's eyes, the same look of hurt and yearning there that he had seen outside.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title & chapter headings from Kiri by Monoral. Seemed appropriate.


	2. The Heavens Stroll Inside of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being awesome, Khara

A week had passed, and Will and Hannibal had begun to settle into a routine. Hannibal, predictably, took care of the cooking. Will found himself exhausted more often than not, and spent a lot of his time napping on the couch when he wasn't flat out asleep in his bed. Hannibal didn't seem concerned at the amount of rest he needed, even if Will did.

“Your body had a lot of work to do after we fell, Will, and we didn't have time to give it the resources it needed. It is catching up on the energy expended, that's all.”

Will just huffed, stretching his body out as he lay on the couch, working the kinks out. His shoulder was still tender, but he figured he should probably try to keep it stretched out so he didn't lose any more mobility than he had to. He was beginning to feel restless, but still too tired to be motivated to do anything but complain.

“You fell as well. You got _shot_. Why aren't you sleeping as much as I am?”

Will sat up, looking over at Hannibal. The other man was sitting in the chair opposite where Will had been lying, reading a book while looking as unruffled as ever. In the weeks they had been on the run Hannibal's hair had begun to grow out a little, silver strands falling softly over his forehead.

“My life has allowed me to work on many skills, not least of which is the ability to work through and recover from injuries, and deal with pain.”

“So you're fine then.” Will answered skeptically, not believing that he really was.

“As fine as can be expected, considering I was shot, then pulled off a cliff.”

Will could see the amusement flickering behind Hannibal's eyes, but it didn't stop the guilt snaking its way through. Despite the guilt, he was grateful that Hannibal had survived, if Will had to. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd been the only one to live, if he had to do it without Hannibal. Bedelia had seen far too deeply inside him when she had said that Will couldn't live with him, and couldn't live without him.

Though now it seemed that only one of those was true.

Somehow, their plunge into the icy waters had seen them both reborn, all previous sins against one another forgiven and washed away. Even Abigail. But while Will had forgiven Hannibal, he hadn't forgotten, and it left him unsure where exactly they stood with each other. He knew what he wanted. Thanks to Bedelia, he knew what Hannibal wanted. But that didn't mean it was something they could both have. He stood, deciding that a week going no further than the small deck attached to their house was more than long enough.

“I'm going outside for a walk. I've been stuck in here too long.”

Hannibal glanced at his watch before returning his gaze to Will. He looked almost unsure, which was not an expression Will could recall ever really seeing on Hannibal before. He watched as the still-seated man fiddled with his bookmark, then carefully placed it in the book before closing it.

“Is it the type of walk you would prefer to take on your own, or would you be amenable to having some company?”

Will was hit with a sudden rush of affection.

_Good god,_ he thought.  _Is he actually nervous?_

He resisted the urge to torment Hannibal, smiling fondly at him instead.

“Sure, company would be nice. I'm assuming you've had more of a chance to explore than I have, anyway.”

“Not as much as you seem to think, I fear. I haven't wanted to stray too far in case I was needed. My journey into Salta excluded, of course.”

“I'm a big boy, Hannibal. You don't need to hover over me every minute of the day.”

Will immediately regretted the words as they left his mouth. Hannibal's face resumed it's normally impassive mask, though he continued to look as though he were trying to see  _through_ Will.

“If you'd prefer I didn't -”

“No! No, it's just. If I'm asleep, I'll be fine. No one is coming for us here. And I'm better now, just tired. You said it yourself. I just need rest.”

Mollified, Hannibal stood, placing his book on the coffee table that stood between them. Will didn't think he'd ever quite be used to the sight of Hannibal like this. Instead of three-piece suits and severely styled hair, he was instead dressed in dark slacks and a white button down shirt, the top two buttons left casually undone and the sleeves rolled to mid forearm. His hair was left soft and loose, and he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, silvery stubble coating his jaw. Will was suddenly taken with how  _beautiful_ Hannibal could look. He looked away, aware that he was getting perilously close to staring, and moved towards the door.

The walk was pleasant. It was warm outside, a light breeze blowing, and neither man felt the urge to speak any more than was necessary. It occurred to Will that this was something he hadn't really ever experienced with Hannibal, as determined as the man always was to get inside Will's head. Silence was nice. It seemed to be going a long way towards easing some of the awkwardness that had sprung up between them. Will wasn't surprised. You couldn't have two people attempting to manipulate and kill each other as often as the two of them had, without it eventually leading to a certain uneasiness with regard to how to act towards one another. Especially given the underlying tension that Will knew had always run between them. Tension that, thanks to Bedelia's answer to Will's question, was now drifting ever closer to the surface.

That was what the awkwardness  _really_ was.

And Will had no idea what to do about it. He knew what he wanted, just as he knew he absolutely could not take it. Not now. He had no idea what Hannibal wanted. The man had made no move to claim Will – not in that sense, anyway – and that made Will conflicted. He knew that Bedelia was telling the truth, but it had been years since she had last seen Hannibal when she confirmed it, so it was possible that it was no longer true.

Will knew he was fooling himself, but it was easier to pretend that Hannibal had moved on from that aspect of their relationship, because that meant he didn't have to do anything about it.

They approached the top of the small hill they had been climbing, not far from their house. There was very little to see – scrub, a road. No other houses. No people. Hannibal and Chiyoh had chosen well, which shouldn't have been any surprise to Will. It was easy to see if anyone would be coming, easy to spot them from a long way off.

Easy to make a run for it, should the need arise.

Hard to get somewhere else in a hurry.

Will tried not to think about that. He shoved his hands in his pockets, wind ruffling his own lengthening hair, and tried not to think about the way he could see Hannibal watching him from the corner of his eye.

“It's nice here. Quiet.” he said, trying to distract himself.

“It is. I thought you would prefer somewhere a bit more isolated, at least at first. Once you're recovered, we can move somewhere else if you would like to.”

“You'd leave that decision to me?”

Hannibal didn't answer, didn't need to. It was all in the set of Hannibal's body, the way all his attention was focused on Will and nowhere else. Hannibal would follow him anywhere.

“Won't you be bored, if I decide to never leave this place? If I decide I don't ever want to go back to society?”

“I have everything I need right here.” Hannibal answered, his voice light, though Will could see the slight tensing of his muscles. Will just nodded.

“And if I decided I wanted to go out, make new friends? Spend more time away from – from here?”

He stumbled over his words. _More time away from you,_ he had nearly said, and Hannibal knew it. He didn't respond, instead just sighed and mirrored Will's stance, hands in pockets. Will glanced again out of the corner of his eye, taking in the straight lines of Hannibal's back, watching the way his hair moved and almost whispered across his head.

“It's nice here.” he repeated, and Hannibal responded as Will thought he would, tenseness leaving him until he stood as relaxed as Will had ever seen him.

“How did you get to Salta?” Will asked, suddenly realising what it was that was missing from the picture in front of him.

“Chiyoh is staying in the city. She will come out once a week until we decide what we want to do.”

_Until you can be sure you can trust me not to run away,_ Will thought to himself. He didn't think it was a fair thought, though that didn't make it any less true.

“She'll be back tomorrow, if you have anything you would like us to get while we're picking up more supplies. Or if you would like to come to the city with us.”

“No. I don't need anything.”

Much to Will's surprise, it was true. Hannibal had made sure the small house was well stocked with books. He had no desire to catch up on any news, fearful of what the papers back home would be saying about him, about Hannibal. For the time being he was more interested in eating whatever food Hannibal chose to provide, rather than making any of his own. The company was good, even if conversation was still a little stilted from time to time. Hannibal had at least learned when to leave Will alone, and when to try and coax him out of his shell a little. Will actually felt relaxed, and something close to happy. Which immediately made the guilt come crashing over him again, because all of that had come at the expense of hurting Molly and Walter. He idly ran his thumb over where his wedding ring had once sat, skin now bare. It might have fallen off while he was in the water after pulling them off the cliff.

It might have.

“Come on,” he said. “It's starting to get late and you've still got dinner to cook me. I need my strength, don't you think, doctor?”

He couldn't help the mildly flirtatious tone his voice took, didn't care to help it. They made their way back down the gentle incline to the house, and if Will let his arm brush against Hannibal's once or twice, who was there to see it? 

Maybe a slight relaxing of his rigidly maintained boundaries wouldn't hurt.


	3. The Halo Crawls Away

Will sat at the top of the hill, watching the car approaching. Hannibal and Chiyoh had gone in to Salta to collect the week's supplies, and Will had taken advantage of his alone time to more fully explore their surroundings. There wasn't a lot to see; they really were isolated, the scrubby terrain indicating that perhaps the property had once been a farm of some sort. Trees partially obscured the house from the little dirt road, and there was a thicker stand of trees further back, but there was very little else. He'd spent the last hour lying back in the grass, trying to read, but found his mind wandering off so often that by the time he attempted to read the same paragraph for the fourth time he decided it wasn't really worth it. Instead, he let his eyes drift shut, listening to the sounds of the insects, the wind blowing gently across the land. There was almost nothing else to be heard, and Will couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this peaceful. His time with Molly had always been busy; between his family responsibilities, his work, the dogs, and the social ties that he was expected to maintain, he didn't really have much time for just relaxation. Not like this.

It was nice. The guilt he felt over being happy tried to intrude, but Will pushed it away. He couldn't spend the rest of his life feeling guilty. Not for being happy. Not for finally accepting who he was. And not for being with the only person who had ever not just accepted him, but fully embraced all that made him uniquely _Will._ The guilt was just a left over part of the way he had always conditioned himself to be. It was time that he put himself first, for the first time in his life.

It was that thought that he suspected was responsible for the fluttery anticipation he felt at Hannibal's imminent return. He wondered if Chiyoh would be sticking around this time. She hadn't last time she had come out, and she'd hurried Hannibal out the door when she'd arrived that morning. She didn't seem to be overly fond of the idea of staying in the house, but whether that was due to the situation or having to be near Will, he couldn't say. It wasn't that they disliked each other. They just had no idea how to act around one another, and so ended up using Hannibal as a buffer. Hannibal, for his part, seemed to find their awkwardness enormously entertaining, but Will didn't think it was sustainable.

As the car pulled up, Will debated whether to go down and greet them. He decided not to. He wasn't avoiding Chiyoh. Not really. He just wasn't sure he wanted deliberately put himself between the person who pushed him off a train and then later shot him, and the person she had chosen to protect from him. And anyway, it was nice on the hill. He was relaxed, warm, and happy. If Hannibal wanted him, he could come and get him.

He watched as they ferried bags from the car to the house. Lots of food, from the looks of things – of course - but also a variety of oddly shaped boxes.

Interesting.

Hannibal and Chiyoh finished unpacking, then stood near the car talking. Will assumed they were saying goodbye, until Chiyoh gestured with her hand, as though cutting the air with her hand. Hannibal was as unruffled as ever, but Chiyoh grew tense for a moment, before Hannibal said something else that caused her to relax again – as much as Chiyoh ever looked relaxed – and she nodded. They both turned to look towards Will, and he became wary, not sure that they were discussing anything that could possibly be good for him. That feeling solidified when Hannibal went back inside, and Chiyoh began walking up the hill.

Will didn't say anything as she approached, remained quiet as she sat down beside him. Chiyoh for her part seemed content to sit in silence, the both of them just enjoying the early afternoon sunshine. It couldn't last though.

“You tried to kill yourself.”

“Yes.”

“You tried to take Hannibal with you.”

“Yes.”

Chiyoh's voice was as calm as ever, but Will could sense the underlying feelings. Still some hostility, of course, but also something approaching amusement.

“Why?”

“I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Are you going to try again?”

“I think I've worked that particular urge out of my system now.”

They lapsed into silence again, both gazing down at the house, avoiding having to look at each other. Will thought it should feel more awkward than it did, but somehow it felt more comfortable than he'd expected. It was almost nice. The fact that there wasn't any active plotting to kill one of the three of them probably helped with that.

“You shot me. And pushed me out of a train.”

“It needed to be done.” Chiyoh answered, and Will could hear the smile. He chanced a look sideways at her to find her face as impassive as ever, but she saw the movement and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Can't argue with the results.” he said, and he couldn't really. Every step, no matter how awful and horrifying at the time, had lead him to this place, this time, and he didn't think he had it in him to give it up.

He avoided thinking about Abigail.

Chiyoh shifted, looking directly at him now.

“A tamed beast is still a beast.”

“I know.”

Will knew Chiyoh was right. Hannibal might be happy with this approximation of domesticity for now, but it wasn't in his nature to remain that way.

Will didn't want him to.

~*~*~

They hadn't said anything more on the hill, having come to an unspoken agreement that what was done was done. Will walked down with Chiyoh and joined Hannibal in saying goodbye to her. She drove off, leaving them alone again. Will was painfully aware of Hannibal's close proximity, and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was too tempting to reach out, but he wasn't ready for that.

Not yet.

“Did you enjoy your talk with Chiyoh?”

Hannibal gave nothing away, but Will knew he was burning with curiosity. Hannibal never could stand not knowing something, even if he did always try to hide it. Not that Will had any intention of sharing what they discussed.

“Productive. How was your shopping trip?”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't push.

“We'll be fine for a while now. Chiyoh is thinking of going away, so I've made sure to keep us well supplied.”

“She won't be leaving the car here?” Will asked, surprised that not only would she leave them out here to fend for themselves, but that Hannibal would allow it. Hannibal looked away, disappointment flitting across his features.

“You wish to leave? She will only be gone a few days.”

“No!” Will was perhaps a bit too vehement in his response, and tried to calm it down. “I was just surprised. When you said going away I thought you meant for good.”

Hannibal smiled briefly and got to work packing the food away. Will helped, but he kept finding his eyes drawn to the other packages that had been set down in a corner. Hannibal was very deliberately _not_ acknowledging them, which of course just made Will want to know what they were even more. When everything else was put away and Hannibal _still_ hadn't mentioned them, Will caved in.

“Ok. What's in the boxes.”

Hannibal stilled for a moment, then picked up a dish towel, folding it over and over in his hands. It was one of those nervous gestures of Hannibal's that Will had known of for a long time, had always seemed calculated, but now seemed to be entirely out of Hannibal's conscious control. He smiled, deciding to wind Hannibal up a little.

“Did you get me a gift?” he teased, then lost his smile when Hannibal's eyes flicked sharply up at him.

“You did.”

Hannibal stood straighter, resolve clearly steeling. Will wondered when Hannibal had become so unsure around him. If there had been one thing that Will could always count on, it was Hannibal always knowing exactly what he wanted to do, regardless of Will's thoughts on the matter. But since they had arrived here, Hannibal had shown a completely unexpected side. Will suspected it was unexpected to Hannibal himself.

Hannibal used the towel to point to the boxes.

“Open them. If there is anything unsuitable, we can replace it.”

Curiosity well and truly piqued, Will picked up the first package, and opened it to find a pair of waders, clearly expensive, and he could tell just by looking that they were going to fit him perfectly. He glanced at Hannibal then opened the rest of the packages to find everything he could need to pick up fly fishing again. Rods, fly equipment, _everything._

“Hannibal...” Will breathed, looking questioningly at the man opposite him.

“I'm told the fly fishing here is very good. I've booked a room in a lodge for you, when Chiyoh returns.”

“Me? Not us?”

Hannibal evaded his eyes, looking out the window instead when he answered.

“There was only the one room available for that time. And I have business to attend to, so I thought you would enjoy the time to yourself. You must have missed it.”

Will just smiled, and tried to tamp down the disappointment growing inside him.

~*~*~

Will & Hannibal were relaxing after dinner, each reading, but Will couldn't focus. It seemed it just wasn't a day for him to be reading. Not with the thoughts that were going around his head. He closed the book, quietly watching Hannibal instead.

“Are you going to let me know what's on your mind, Will?” Hannibal said, not looking away from his book as he spoke. Will took a breath. It was something he had been wanting to bring up for a few days now, but hadn't known how.

“I want to fish.”

Hannibal paused his reading, looking up at Will with a look of faint bemusement.

“It's a good thing you have new fishing equipment then, isn't it?” 

Will ignored Hannibal, pushing ahead with what he really wanted to say.

“And while I'm fishing, I want to learn how to hunt. I thought we could do that together. I teach you to fish, you teach me to hunt.”

Hannibal stilled, a soft smile growing.

“I think we can arrange that.” he answered, and Will couldn't stop his own smile in return. They held one another's gaze across the coffee table that stood between them. Will couldn't help the feeling rising in his gut; anticipation, joy, nerves, and something else that he didn't want to define just yet. He knew Hannibal was feeling the same thing, could see the hunger rising. His mouth dried, and he was suddenly very glad they weren't any closer or he wouldn't be able to control himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to even now. All he could feel right now was the ghost of the emotions that had swamped him after they had killed the Dragon, and even in this washed out form they were threatening to drown him.

“I'm going to go shower, then go to bed.” he managed to say, his voice only just under control. Hannibal blinked, nodding his assent.

“Good night, Will.”

Will fled up the stairs before he did anything stupid, but by the time he was in the shower he was wondering _why_ it was stupid. They were free. They had no one to answer to but themselves, and it was clear that for all Hannibal wanted the same thing that Will did, he was never going to make the first move.

Will took his time under the water, willing his body back under his control. Standing there, the water pounding down on him, he made a decision. From there, it was easy. He stepped out, dried himself off hurriedly, and changed into his standard sleepwear of boxers and t-shirt. He exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, stepping lightly towards the bedroom doors. As expected, Hannibal had gone to bed, his door firmly shut. Will stood outside, a sudden last minute attack of butterflies staying his hand.

_This is ridiculous,_ he thought, and knocked on the door, opening it before Hannibal could answer and give Will a chance to change his mind.

The light was off, Hannibal lying on one side of the bed. He looked up, blinking at the light pouring through the door. Will just watched him for a moment, before closing the door firmly behind him and wordlessly crossing the floor, sliding under the blankets on the empty side of the bed. He could feel Hannibal's surprise, but ignored it in favour of pressing up against his side, head resting on Hannibal's chest. He felt an arm hesitantly coming up to hold him, and the ghost of a kiss on the top of his head. Will closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left such lovely comments. You're all awesome ♥


	4. Revealing Who We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff and happy times before the story really begins to take off

When they awoke the next morning, Will and Hannibal were still entwined with each other. Hannibal was lying behind Will, his arms wrapped around the younger man, chest pressed firmly against Will's back. Their legs were slotted between each other, and Will had to suppress the urge to grind down against the thigh that was currently between both of his.

“Good morning, Will.”

Hannibal's breath warmed the back of Will's neck when he spoke, and Will didn't even try to hide his smile. He wriggled a bit, until Hannibal's grip loosened enough for Will to be able to turn in his arms so they were facing each other.

“Good morning, Doctor Lecter,” he replied. He lifted a hand, gently brushing the hair that had fallen over Hannibal's forehead, curling his fingers as he tucked it behind his ear. It still wasn't long enough to stay, and Will took the opportunity that provided to softly stroke Hannibal's skin as he kept brushing the hair back. Hannibal's eyes fluttered shut as his hand drifted down to rest on Will's hip. His fingers tightened, oh so slightly, with each pass of Will's hand across his face.

Will dropped his hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, and when his eyes opened again in surprise Will just smiled softly, his thumb grazing Hannibal's cheekbone in small circles. Will couldn't say how long they lay like that, his hand on Hannibal's face, Hannibal's hand answering the soft movements with circles of his own on Will's hip, the two of them smiling quietly at one another, eyes dancing across each others' faces as though trying to memorise every line. Seconds, hours, days, _eternities._ It was Hannibal who finally broke the silence.

“We should have breakfast, Will,” and the husky quality to his voice had Will's stomach doing flips.

“I guess we should,” Will answered, entirely unsurprised when neither of them made any move to leave. It was only when Will's stomach began to rumble that they decided to finally move. Will didn't think he'd ever felt anything so comfortable, so _right_ in all his life. It was a sign of how far they'd both come that the person he felt safest with was the person who had also done the worst things imaginable to Will. But he knew, _knew,_ beyond any sort of doubt, that Hannibal would never hurt him again. Not like that.

He stretched, rolling over as he worked the kinks out of his muscles. He could feel Hannibal's eyes raking over his body, felt his own body yearning in return. Hannibal had remained on his side, but was now propping his head up on one hand. Will had never seen that expression on the other man's face before; wonder, affection, devotion.

_Love._

He marveled over how different it was, seeing it for himself rather than just relying on someone else's word for it. It made him feel powerful, and breakable, and  _god_ did he return the feeling. He could hardly believe the strength of his feelings for Hannibal, especially now that he'd finally destroyed the last pieces of the dam that had been holding them back.

He reached out to run his fingers down the side of Hannibal's face one more time before reluctantly climbing out of bed. 

“Are you going to get us breakfast, or shall I?”

“Please, allow me,” Hannibal answered, finally moving to climb out of bed himself. “This seems to be a cause for celebration.”

He moved in front of Will, finally reaching up to caress Will's face in return. It was disturbingly similar to the last time Hannibal had done it, all those years ago in his kitchen in Baltimore, but at the same time the two touches were light years apart. Will closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, heat flooding his entire system and he felt that if they never moved from here again he would die happy, but all too soon the hand was moving, sliding down to grip the back of his neck. He looked up, eyes meeting Hannibal's. The hand on his neck pulled him closer, until their foreheads were resting together.

“Go and freshen up,” Hannibal whispered. “I'll get breakfast started.”

He let go, walking off to the bathroom, and Will almost stumbled as Hannibal let go. Will ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and scraping over his stubble, trying to get his breathing under control. He scurried back to his own room, shutting the door before sitting on the bed. Overwhelmed was the only word he could think of, but it didn't come close to doing to doing an adequate job of describing how he felt. It was all too much, but nowhere near enough. Not even close.

Head in his hands, he sat quietly, listening out for the sounds of Hannibal making his way downstairs. Once he did, Will stood, dressed carefully. It didn't seem like the sort of situation for his normal choice of clothing. He dug through his drawers, pulling out a dark button down shirt and slacks. He quickly dressed then darted into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and splashing water over his face and hair in a finale bid to settle himself. Part of him wondered why he was making such a big deal about this; it was only breakfast, after all. But it was representative of such a monumental shift in their relationship, one that had been coming for so long, would have been here sooner if not for Will's stubborn belief that clinging to his old life was the right thing to do. For anybody else, it  _would_ have been the right thing.

Not for Will.

Hair carefully brushed back, curls framing his face in a way that he was fairly certain Hannibal liked, he made his way back out and down the stairs. Hannibal was only just getting things prepared, so Will took his place next to him at the bench. He surveyed the food in front of him, amusement rising as he recognised the ingredients.

“Can you believe there was a time I didn't find you interesting?” he said as Hannibal began working on the protein scramble. Hannibal glanced at him out of the side of his eye, a smug quirk of his lips bringing back the Hannibal that Will remembered.

“That has changed, I trust?”

“You might say that.”

Will couldn't keep the smile from his face as he took a knife and began slicing the smoked sausage. They worked in comfortable silence, Will slicing as Hannibal prepared the rest. It got him thinking.

“It's a shame we couldn't have taken anything from Dolarhyde.”

Hannibal stilled, focussing on the pan in front of him.

“You didn't really leave us much choice.”

“No.”

Will took a breath, looked up at Hannibal and waited until the other man was looking back at him before continuing. He wanted him to know he was serious.

“Maybe next time. You can teach me.”

Hannibal stared back for a good while before answering, but Will could see what effect that one simple sentence had on him immediately. Hannibal's breath hitched, and his eyes grew dark.

“I will teach you anything you wish to learn, Will.”

Their gaze lingered, until Hannibal abruptly turned back to the pan, finishing off their meal. Will retrieved the plates from the cupboard, and watched as Hannibal plated the food before carrying it to the little table in their kitchen. It was nothing like his old home in Baltimore, but that didn't bother Will any more than he thought it bothered Hannibal. This place was  _theirs._

They ate slowly, watching each other and smiling. Once they were done, Will collected the dishes and made his way to the sink. Once it was filled and he was washing, Hannibal crowded behind him, pressed against his back, his arms tight around Will's waist. He nosed behind Will's ear and Will leaned back, craving more contact.

“Do you mean it?” Hannibal asked, his voice almost hoarse sounding.

“I do.”

Hannibal's grip tightened briefly before he spun Will around, heedless of the water splashing out of the sink. He raised both hands, cradling Will's face in them, before drawing him close. Their foreheads rested together again, noses brushing.

“You've given me more than I had ever dreamed possible,” Hannibal breathed.

“Not as much as you've given me,” Will replied. “I'm finally free. You did that.”

He settled his hands on Hannibal's hips, neither man caring about the dampness, and pulled him closer, aligning their bodies. He felt the closeness of their lips, mere millimetres apart but seeming to be universes away from each other, until Will tilted his head just so and finally, _finally_ their lips were meeting. It was soft at first, chaste almost, but now that the final barrier between them was broken it was hard to stop. The kiss deepened, and Will would have been embarrassed at the whine that escaped him if he couldn't feel, very clearly, what it did to Hannibal.

Will shifted his hands, grabbing Hannibal's ass, and pulled him ever closer, grinding against him. The movement forced a grunt from Hannibal. It was almost too much, and suddenly there were hands everywhere, shirts being torn from bodies, fingers roaming across exposed chests. Will grabbed at Hannibal's chest hair, tugging softly as Hannibal kissed his way down Will's neck and across his shoulder, before returning and licking a stripe up his throat. He moaned again, arching back when Hannibal scratched lightly at his skin.

Hannibal lifted him up, effortlessly, and carried him to the table. He sat Will down then pushed him back, leaning over him and taking a nipple between his teeth. Will had never felt anything like it, his hips jerking upwards and his legs wrapping around Hannibal. He pulled him down and they began rutting against each other, the table moving in rough, squeaking jerks across the floor. Will pulled at Hannibal, desperate to taste him again and Hannibal went willingly. The table bumped against the wall and Will reached back, hand pressing back to give himself some resistance to push back against Hannibal harder. He tightened the grip his legs had on Hannibal, pulling him harder, faster, their kisses growing more frantic.

“Fuck, Hannibal... I'm going to -”

Will didn't get to finish his sentence before Hannibal began moving even faster, spurred on by the obvious effect it was having on Will. It didn't take much to pull Will over the edge, his entire body locking up as he came, and he was dimly aware of Hannibal following him only a few thrusts after.

Hannibal collapsed on top of him, both of them panting and sweating. Hannibal pressed small kisses along Will's jaw as Will stroked Hannibal's hair back again in a repeat of the morning's actions. Eventually they both regained their breath and got up, looking at the mess they'd made of themselves and the kitchen.

“It's been a while since I've been made to come in my pants,” Will remarked wryly. He gestured at the growing wet patch on Hannibal's pants. “I'd wager it's been a while for you, too.”

Hannibal smirked, completely unashamed of what had transpired.

“It's been years since anyone has so much as touched me, or since I have touched anyone. Be glad I lasted as long as I did.”

Will smiled, pulling Hannibal's hand to his mouth, peppering kisses across his knuckles.

“I'm sure we can work on that,” he said, aiming for smug but painfully aware he was veering closer to awestruck. The look on Hannibal's face told Will he was feeling the same way. And now they had a common goal, a shared hobby.

Will was finally going to have his chance to become who he was always meant to be, and he was going to do it alongside the person he was always meant to be with.

 


	5. You Refill My Place

The two of them lay back on the couch after dinner, Hannibal leaning back against the arm, Will pulled between his legs with his head resting back on Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal's fingers threaded lazily through Will's hair, curls twisting and slipping with each movement. Every so often he would press a kiss to Will's neck, inhaling each time as though savouring the smell, but otherwise they lay in peaceful silence. Will could feel himself drifting off to sleep when he remembered Hannibal's plan to send him to the fishing lodge.

“What are you going to do while I'm fishing?” he asked sleepily, basking in the warmth and safety of Hannibal's arms. “You said you had business.”

Hannibal's hand stilled briefly in Will's hair before resuming its languorous stroking.

“I had planned to hunt,” he murmured, breath tickling past Will's ear. “Perhaps I could revise my planned time frame, though. We can turn it into a teaching experience. You could take me fishing afterwards.”

A thrill shot through Will like electricity and he arched back against Hannibal. The man almost purred as their cheeks brushed, which sent another burst of excitement through Will. He wiggled back against Hannibal and smirked when he felt the other man's dick twitch in interest. Hannibal nosed through Will's hair again, and it reminded him so much of when the dogs would do the same thing that he couldn't suppress the laugh that burst through at the thought.

“I hope it's not the thought of me in waders that has you so amused,” Hannibal said, though the smile Will could feel against the side of this face let him know that Hannibal wasn't offended.

“No, no, it's just...no. Not that.”

Will paused for a moment.

“Though actually, now that you've put _that_ image in my head...”

Will yelped as Hannibal bit down on the junction between his neck and shoulder, _hard_ , then immediately nudged his shirt out of the way and began kissing the bite mark, long, slow, wet kisses alternating with quick, small pecks.

Will found it far more of a turn on than he thought it should be.

“So do you have someone picked out already?” Will asked softly, stretching his neck so Hannibal could continue kissing along it. He hissed in pleasure as Hannibal nipped at the sensitive skin there again, then once more when Hannibal's fingers tightened their grip in his hair.

“Mmmhmm,” Hannibal murmured between kisses. “A truly vile man. I thought it would be best to pick someone you would approve of.”

Will's physical reaction was a surprise, though he wasn't entirely sure why, after all they had been through. The low-level thrum of excitement and longing that had been lying in the background all day suddenly flared to life at the thought of Hannibal carefully picking out a new gift for him, something that he would approve of, and the fact that they would now be collecting that gift together had him harder than he thought possible. In his old life he would have been writhing with self-loathing, but not any more. He let out a low moan, grinding back against Hannibal.

“Tell me about him. Tell me what you imagine us doing.”

“He's rude, of course,” Hannibal responded, his voice low and husky. “He is that most banal and human of evils. He bullies,” Hannibal paused for a moment, sucking Will's earlobe into his mouth and biting ever so softly before releasing it and continuing his description. “He has dogs, and he starves them, hits them. He owns a small shop, but he doesn't pay his staff. They have become little more than slaves to him. They are starving, and he grows fat on the money they make for him.”

Hannibal's hands began to drift, one sliding loosely around Will's throat, the other dropping to pinch at Will's nipple through his shirt. Will for his part just clung onto Hannibal's thighs, those strong legs stretched out either side of him.

“I had planned to deal with him quickly, perhaps take only his liver so as not to draw unnecessary attention. But with you with me, Will, we could make art the world has never seen before.”

“Tell me, Hannibal,” Will whispered. “Describe your fantasy to me. Let me feel it the way you do.”

Will's eyes drifted shut, opening the rest of his senses entirely to Hannibal, his fingers tightening, digging into the flesh beneath them.

“We would surprise him in his home. He lives alone, and his dogs would be easy enough to take care of. They have no loyalty to the man, and would willingly allow themselves to be distracted with good food. Once inside, I would follow your lead, as I will follow your lead anywhere, my dear boy.”

Hannibal punctuated the statement with another bite to the neck, and a twist of Will's nipple, and Will couldn't help the pant that escaped his mouth. He began gently rocking his hips backwards, rubbing against Hannibal's now very obvious erection, whining at the slight (but not enough, _never_ enough) rubbing of tight pants over his own arousal.

“In my fantasy, you enter silently, but wake him up roughly, shoving his own shirt into his mouth so he can't protest. I help you tie him to the chair, his wretched and degraded appearance only serving to enrage you more. But you always have such a calm rage, don't you, Will?”

Will turned his head, catching Hannibal's lips in a kiss, desperately trying to taste all he could but not wanting Hannibal to stop talking.

“Keep going,” he panted, finally breaking away but never opening his eyes. He could _feel_ what this was doing to Hannibal, how it mixed with his own rising stimulation, a seemingly endless feedback loop that was driving him insane with want.

Hannibal's hands dropped lower then, lifting Will's shirt and tearing it open, buttons popping off and flying around the room. His hands splayed across Will's bared stomach and chest, fingers lightly dancing across his scar before moving up, down, _everywhere._

“You take your time getting your knife out, letting him _know_ what it is you intend to do. He knows there is no escape, that you are the angel that has come for him. He will be transformed into something so far superior to what he has managed in his life that it is beyond his meagre comprehension. You are _beautiful_ in your work, Will.”

Hannibal's hands moved in earnest, then. Will's legs parted almost of their own accord as Hannibal unbuttoned his pants, the gentleness contrasting so beautifully with the violence with which he had opened the shirt and he let out a soundless sigh when Hannibal slid under his boxers and took him in hand. He stroked Will almost painfully slowly, and Will had to fight not to drive harder into his hand as Hannibal continued speaking.

“You open him up slowly, pubis to sternum,” Hannibal said, his free hand tracing a line to illustrate his point. “He struggles, but we've tied him down so well that it is futile. The blood is cascading down and you catch it in your hands, and when you turn to me you hold it up for me to drink. We both drink from your hands. It is the final stage in _our_ becoming.”

Hannibal's hand worked Will harder now, Will giving up and bucking his hips harder and harder. He wound his hand between them and palmed Hannibal, frustrated at his inability to reach him properly but taking every bit that he could. He could clearly see the look of ecstasy on Hannibal's face in the fantasy, both of them becoming one in this final act of joining that was started by the Dragon. This time the prey was meaningless, just a conduit for the two of them, one who deserved everything he got but was being honoured in a way he _didn't_ deserve by being given this role.

“I teach you how to remove the parts we want,” Hannibal went on, his voice strained and obviously on the verge of breaking. “He dies quietly, unnoticed as we go about our work. I pack our takings away as you display him. You open up his front completely, skin open so the world may see what he is inside. His intestines you loop around his neck, tie to the rafters above. His own greed is what has hanged him. And still you grow more beautiful as you finally realise all that you are, all that you have become. I am in awe, my beautiful, terrible, blood-soaked Will.”

Will pushed harder, faster up into Hannibal's hand, overwhelmed by the desire and _love_ flowing off Hannibal in wave after wave. He groaned, so close to completion, chasing that edge but not able to quite make it.

“Will you take me there, Hannibal? Right there in front of his still warm corpse? Show me exactly how much you want me?”

“Yes,” Hannibal breathed and that was all Will needed. His whole body stiffened as he came, spurts of white escaping Hannibal's fist. Hannibal stroked Will gently through it, and Will felt like he was coming again when Hannibal lifted his hand to lick the mess from his fingers. He was sweat soaked, exhausted, and somehow still more turned on that he could remember ever being in his life. He lay in a breathless haze, astounded that Hannibal's words could have had such an effect on him. He was suddenly ravenous and twisted in the other man's arms, claiming his mouth in a ferocious kiss, tasting himself on Hannibal's tongue.

Frantically he shoved at Hannibal's shirt, pushing it up until he could run his hands through the coarse hair on his chest. He kissed everywhere he could reach, teeth running sharply over Hannibal's nipples and the gasp from above gave him all the encouragement he needed to keep going. Down he went, lower and lower until he reached the waist of Hannibal's pants. Hurriedly he undid them with fumbling fingers, freeing Hannibal's cock from it's confines.

It was the first time Will had seen it, and he smiled in appreciation. He thought idly that if he had tried to do this at any other time he might have been intimidated by the size, but Hannibal had worked him up into such a frenzy that all he could think of was his need to taste, to devour. He licked a stripe up the length of the shaft, curling his tongue around the head before wrapping his lips around it and sliding down.

Hannibal's fingers tangled back into his hair, pulling harder and harder. Will groaned, the vibration causing Hannibal to give an involuntary buck of his hips. Will pulled back before he could choke, trying desperately to savour the taste of Hannibal but unable to stop himself from taking all that he could. He sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing out with the effort. The noises he drew from the man now below him went straight to his own dick, and while it was far too soon for him to be able to get an erection again he couldn't help but allow a hand to drift down between his legs and give a few tugs.

His head bobbed faster until Hannibal's hands tightened in his hair, pulling his head up into a violent kiss, and it only took three more thrusts against Will's stomach until Hannibal was coming between them. Will rocked against him, spreading the semen across both of their stomachs as they regained their breath. The kisses grew slower, more gentle as they came down from their frenzy, fingers tenderly tracing each others' faces. Will smiled, a soft laugh creeping from him.

“That was unexpected,” he said, rolling over to lie to the side of Hannibal. The couch was not wide, but he found he craved the forced closeness, the safety of lying within the monster's arms.

Of _being_ the monster.

“You never fail to surprise me, Will. ' _Most loved of all loves, my soul clings to your soul, my life is your life, and in all the worlds of pain and pleasure you are my ideal of admiration and joy'_.”

Will raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Oscar Wilde?”

“To know such love as we have is an honour I am happy to share with him.”

“I hope you're not comparing me to Alfred Douglas,” Will said, playful disgruntlement on his face.

“He could never compare to your perfection, Will. No one could. But our names will forever be joined, yours and mine. Just as theirs. Just as Achilles and Patroclus, Hadrian and Antinous.”

“We really are conjoined, aren't we?”

Hannibal just closed his eyes and smiled. He pressed his lips to Will's forehead and sighed, and Will felt that if he died right there it would be the most glorious way to go.

But he wasn't done yet.

He was determined to make Hannibal's fantasy a reality.

 


	6. Come and Save Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is threatening to get pretty unwieldy, size-wise, so I'm gonna split it since it had a nice breaking point already. This particular part is quite short, but the other half should be up later on this week.
> 
> As always unbeta'd so I apologise for any mistakes I've missed.

 Today was the day. The day that Will was finally going into the city to see his gift. They weren't planning on doing anything immediately, preferring to wait until cover of dark, but Hannibal had wanted Will to give final approval over their target. And it wouldn't hurt for Will to get an idea of the layout of the area, to see where they would be working and how best to go about it.

Hannibal herded Will into the restaurant ahead of him, subtly pointing out the man he had chosen once they had entered.

“Mateo Vasquez,” he murmured, seemingly engrossed in the view out the window. “Pay attention and you will see why I thought you would approve.”

Will did as Hannibal asked, and watched the man. He was a large man, overweight and sweaty, thinning hair greased back. Slovenly, is how Will would describe him. He watched as the man threw menus down in front of the customers he was supposedly looking after, only grunting when asked questions. He could see why he'd caught Hannibal's attention, but he wasn't sure that a surly manner with customers was reason enough for the man to die.

He got his first glimpse of why Hannibal thought he would agree once the waitress came out to seat them. She was small, almost gaunt looking, with dark circles under her eyes. Will was painfully aware of the way she avoided making eye contact with either of them, despite her smile. As she led them to their seats she hunched herself further inwards as though trying to hide where she was.

Will was still only in the beginning stages of learning Spanish, so he let Hannibal order them a drink each to have while they looked over the menus the girl – Florencia, according to her name badge, and there was a name guaranteed to throw Will back to his and Hannibal's past – had gently placed in front of them.

“She's terribly malnourished,” Hannibal said as she left them to get their drinks. “You would think that even if he had no care for the people themselves, he'd care about the image he is presenting. And yet he doesn't.”

Will could hear the scorn in his voice, the way he seemed to judge Mateo Vasquez's laziness and lack of care for maintaining appearances as almost worse sins than any others he may have committed. He wasn't surprised. If there was anything that wouldn't change about Hannibal, it was his inherent... _Hannibalness._ Will wasn't entirely sure that the surge of fondness that washed over him was appropriate, but he still wouldn't change Hannibal. Not any more.

Their drinks arrived, and as Florencia handed one to Hannibal he fumbled it, the glass crashing to the floor, iced water spilling everywhere. The two of them leapt up to help the stricken waitress clean up the mess, Will shooting his companion a questioning look. It was clear to him that it was done on purpose, though Will didn't know to what end. He didn't have to wait long to find out.

“Sorry, sorry,” the waitress repeated in accented English over and over, as she hurriedly tried to clean up the shards of glass. She shot a fearful look over her shoulder, and Will followed her gaze to see the owner striding over, an ugly look on his face. Florencia immediately looked back down, her shaking hands in danger of being cut on the broken glass before them. Will placed his hand on hers, stilling them, and ducked his head to meet her eyes, trying to calm her down. She looked lost, and terrified, and Will understood completely her fear. Mateo Vasquez reached them and leaned down, growling harshly into the girl's ear. Will could feel her fear, even as her face shut down to a blank mask and she nodded once, rising to her feet and quickly rushing out towards the kitchen. The man glowered at them, shooing them away from what they were doing before barking out an order in Spanish after her. Will and Hannibal slid back into their seats, Hannibal looking faintly displeased. Will was seething, and his rage was only further stoked when he asked Hannibal to translate for him once the owner had gone.

“What did he say to her?” he whispered.

Hannibal looked up, waiting to answer until after an equally gaunt looking kitchen hand had come out to sweep up the remaining mess.

“He told her to lock herself in the cage,” Hannibal answered mildly, back to looking over the menu. “Then he called out 'until sunrise', which presumably means she will be locked in a cage overnight. For nothing more than a customer clumsily dropping a glass.”

“ _Clumsily,_ ” Will scoffed, turning his fury on the only target currently available to him. “You did that on purpose, Hannibal. I saw you do it.”

“I needed to show you why exactly I thought this man would work for you. It was the most effective means to demonstrate my point.”

“You deliberately pushed that girl into torture!” Will hissed, his anger reaching a fever pitch. “She has done nothing, and you did that to her just to prove a point?”

“It would have happened anyway, Will,” Hannibal responded, his voice as even as ever. “Think of it as being like ripping off a bandaid. Yes, it hurts her now. And I may be responsible for this instance. But I have also provided her means of relief, have I not? You see what I see, Will, I know you do.”

And just like that all of Will's indignant wrath at Hannibal was gone, as though the bubble containing it all had popped. The anger was still there, but it was moved, redirected towards the person who was ultimately responsible for the girl's plight. And Hannibal was right. Will wouldn't have felt comfortable killing someone he didn't feel deserved it. This man though...Will had felt every bit of fear the waitress was filled with, could see what appeared to be fading bruises littering the kitchen hand's arms that he was certain were left there by his boss.

These people, little past being children, were clearly no more than possessions to that man, and Will was now determined to put an end to it. He gradually became aware of Hannibal's voice, the slight brush of fingers over his clenched fists. He forced himself to relax, focussing instead on what Hannibal was saying.

“I'm not trying to manipulate you, Will.”

“I know, Hannibal. I know. You're right. This man...he's a wonderful gift.”

Will looked coyly up at Hannibal, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. He still worried about the girl, but he realised that while he couldn't do anything about it _now_ , he'd be able to put a permanent end to it.

Tonight.

He turned his hand around, palm up, and closed his eyes as Hannibal traced small circles gently on the sensitive skin.

“We'll put an end to this, Will. And I will teach you everything you want to know.”

Will just sighed, fingers curling loosely around Hannibal's as he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who's left such wonderful comments for me! I really appreciate it, and I love all of you ♥


	7. Believe in Me and Drink the Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there! One more chapter to go after this one. I hope you enjoy this mishmash of fluff, sex & murder.

Will adjusted his leather gloves for the umpteenth time since they had arrived. It was well after midnight, and he and and Hannibal had been waiting in the car, down the hill from their target's house, for hours. The man had long since turned off his lights, but Hannibal had wanted to wait until it was more likely that they man had gone to sleep, and the glove adjusting had become something of a nervous tic.

“Don't worry, Will,” Hannibal said, turning an amused gaze on to the man next to him. “This will go much more smoothly if you just relax.”

“This is the first time I've done this,” Will replied, ducking his head to look up at the second floor windows of the man's house.

“I seem to remember witnessing you kill more than one man, Will.”

“I've never actively - or at least, consciously - _planned_ to do it though,” Will replied testily. “And definitely not with you sitting here watching me.”

Hannibal reached a hand up to cup Will's head, gently turning it so they were facing each other. It was a sign of how much energy was flowing through Will that he had to force himself to meet Hannibal's eyes, instead of relaxing into the easy contact that they had enjoyed for so long.

“You will be fine,” Hannibal whispered, his thumb grazing across Will's cheek as he spoke, his low, even tone joining with the physical touches to help settle Will. “You are an artist, Will. That is in you, and nothing will change that. Your beauty cannot be contained.”

Will leaned into Hannibal's hand, sighing as the other man's words caused his stomach to turn flips. To have some believe in him so whole-heartedly was something he'd never experienced before. He'd grown so accustomed to being treated like something damaged that he'd long since lost the hope that someone would see him for who he was.

Hannibal did.

Hannibal had never once, not since they'd become honest with each other, treated him with anything other than reverence, like there was nothing more perfect than Will Graham. It was intoxicating, a drug that Will knew, _knew_ beyond all doubt, that he was never going to be able to give up. Not if they lived a thousand years, an eternity. He would always be craving more of whatever Hannibal was willing to give him, and he also knew that Hannibal was willing to give him everything that he was.

He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the leather of Hannibal's glove, aggrieved that he couldn't feel his beloved's skin beneath his lips.

“Can we start now?” he whispered, eyes closed. He wasn't just eager to make a start on their work; he knew that if he had to sit this close to Hannibal without being able to touch him for much longer, he was going to lose his mind. It hadn't stopped him from trying to pass the time in a more entertaining fashion once they had first pulled up, but Hannibal – as tempted as he so very obviously was – had quickly put a stop to it. This car was stolen, and they couldn't afford to leave any physical evidence behind. Or risk someone trying to arrest them for lewd behaviour, for that matter. So instead they had waited, each dealing with the underlying frustration in their own way, but Will wasn't willing to wait any longer. The need to act was overwhelming, now.

“Yes.”

Will was pleased to hear the husky tone in Hannibal's voice. It was enormously gratifying to see and hear the effect that everything they did had on him, and for someone who always held an air of control about him, he was remarkably free with letting Will know exactly what he did to him. It thrilled the former profiler nearly as much as anything else they did.

He couldn't resist any longer; he pulled Hannibal in for a kiss, just a slow, soft kiss, but filled with everything he was still completely unable to say out loud.

_I want you. I need you._

_I'm yours._

_...I love you._

He knew Hannibal understood, could feel the sentiments returned. He pulled away just slightly and rested his forehead on Hannibal's, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him. He was beginning to understand why Hannibal did this so often, even if he didn't have the same abilities the other man did.

Hannibal shifted to nuzzle against the side of Will's face for a moment, before breaking the silence.

“We should go, Will. Our task awaits us.”

Will nodded, sitting upright and gazing back up at the house.

It was time.

~*~*~

There was very little light to see by, but the hours spent sitting in darkness had done more than enough to help Will and Hannibal's eyes adjust. As they silently made their way closer, Will pulled out the bags he had prepared for the dogs. Hannibal had initially suggested that they drug the dogs, but had acquiesced without argument in the face of Will's very firm _no._ The bags instead contained a variety of meat cuts and bones, cooked the way Will had always cooked for his dogs back in Wolf Trap. As the approached the fence he opened the bag containing the cuts of meat, scattering half of it across the lawn in front of the chained up animals.

He peered over the waist high fence at them. There were two of them, mutts of indeterminate lineage, and Hannibal was right; the man had clearly been starving them, their ribs showing and patches of fur rubbed away where the chains holding them dug into their skin. Will could feel his lip curling in an angry sneer; he did nothing to contain it, using the wrath to fuel his motivation. He knew now that they'd be taking these animals with them; knew that Hannibal was probably already aware before he'd brought Will here that it would be a foregone conclusion.

He watched as they devoured the food before them, frantically searching for more already. Will emptied the rest of the bag then vaulted the fence, barely registering Hannibal's hissed _“Will!”_

Slowly he moved towards the dogs, making himself as non-threatening as possible, but they still shied away from him once they noticed he was there. Thankfully they made no sound, eyeing up the food they had moved away from, and Will crouched, waiting for them to move closer. It didn't take long for their hunger to override their self-preservation instincts, and they sniffed their way back, accepting for the time being that Will was not there to hurt them. Slowly Will reached out, allowing them to sniff at his hands as they searched for more. He could feel, more than hear or see Hannibal's impatience, but to his pleasure he refrained from saying anything. Once he had the dogs used to his presence, Will retrieved two of the bones he had brought from his bag, placing them in front of the dogs for them to gnaw on while they were inside. He slowly got up, stretching his muscles out and turned to find Hannibal watching him intently, that by now familiar vaguely amused look on his face. He cocked an eyebrow.

“I imagine in a few hours we'll be having to think up new names for these animals,” Hannibal whispered, smile belying the pretend-irritated tone in his voice.

“We can't just leave them here, can we? And it's not like we don't have the room for them.”

“They'll link us to this.”

“Only if they're already looking, and even then it's nothing we can't handle between us, is it?”

And ok, Will knew it was a manipulative move to subtly use the fact that he had every intention of them staying together to get Hannibal to agree completely to it, but it was also worth it to see the way his face softened as he grasped the full meaning of Will's words.

A slight nod was the only response Hannibal had, and Will smiled, moving slowly back towards him. He pulled him down for one last kiss, each man leaning over the fence, lips lingering just a bit longer than they needed to.

“Let's do this,” he murmured, Hannibal's quick intake of air letting Will know how much Hannibal was looking forward to it.

They walked towards the front path, each man on his own side of the fence, eyes locked in a soft gaze. It made Will shiver in nostalgic delight, remembering them walking in tandem on opposite sides of the glass in Hannibal's cell in Baltimore. It had pained him to see the beast caged, even if the last dying pieces of his old morality had tried to crush that sentiment. There was no moonlight tonight, but Will could still hear the sound of its song as they reached the path, Hannibal opening the gate to join him. It was gentle, soothing.

Peaceful.

As Hannibal hefted the bag he was carrying over his shoulder, Will took his free hand. The gloves prevented him from being able to entwine their fingers properly, but he still took comfort from the contact. He was remarkably grounded, now, all previous nerves washed away and a sense of utter self-control steadying him. It was amazing how often Hannibal's touch did that. As they approached the front door Hannibal slid his hand free once more, retrieving his lock pick tools from his pocket. He deftly opened the door after a brief look around to make sure they weren't being watched. Will was impressed; the time away did not seem to have diminished Hannibal's skills in the slightest. Before they went any further, Hannibal insisted that they switch their gloves for surgical ones – there was no point in ruining perfectly good leather ones.

The door opened soundlessly and the two men slipped inside. They crept up the stairs, listening intently for any sign that the man might have heard them.

There was nothing.

Will felt the anticipation rising, knew it was both his and Hannibal's and that they were feeding off each other. Nothing would ever come close to the Dragon, but this was a whole new type of special for them, and Will doubted either of them would forget it. And as much as Will wanted to make this special for himself, he was even more interested in doing all he could for Hannibal. Ever since Hannibal had shared that fantasy with him, he had wanted to do all he could in his power to make it happen.

And he intended to make it happen tonight.

Will followed Hannibal to the bedroom. The older man had already worked out the layout of the house before he had ever brought Will here. He stopped outside an open door and gestured inside, waiting for Will to enter first. Will nodded, gliding on silent feet into the room, hoarse breathing from the dead man before them the only sound. As Will had expected dirty clothes lay strewn about the floor, and he cast his eyes about in the dim light, searching for the perfect item. He found a dirty shirt, sweat-stained by the smell of it, and gathered it into a loose ball. He stood over the bed, looking down in disgust and the body sprawled across it. The man lay face up, making Will's job that much easier.

With greater violence than he had initially intended he shoved his hand down, the man jerking up in sleep filled terror only helping the shirt on it's journey into his mouth. He thrashed, one arm flying up to hit Will in the head but Hannibal was there, Hannibal was always right there, and he pulled the arm back before it could make contact, a pair of handcuffs appearing as though by magic and cuffing the wrist to the head of the bed.

Mateo Vasquez tried to scream then. Will smiled and worked the cloth in further until the body below him began to gag, then took the trailing ends and wrapped them around the man's head – once, twice, until the material was firmly tied. Hannibal had busies himself with the rope they had brought with them, tying Vasquez' ankles to the foot of the bed, stretching his body taut. It only left one arm free now, the arm nearest Will, and Vasquez clawed at his face in an effort to remove the gag wedged deep in his mouth that was threatening to suffocate him.

“Shhhh,” Will soothed him, gently stroking the hair back from Vasquez' forehead. He instantly stilled, the terror filling his eyes warring with hope as he stared up at Will.

“This is more than you deserve,” he continued, and hope won the battle until Will held out his hand to take the second pair of handcuffs from Hannibal. Despair and disbelief took over from hope, and Will felt _powerful_. He was ridding the world of this piece of filth, making it cleaner, and in return this man would be elevated to a status far about what he would have been able to get to on his own.

Will pulled on the man's arm with a jerk, having to strain a little to pull it far enough to close the cuffs. Hannibal had done a good job tying the man down tight. Will wasn't surprised; the man was a master, had been for far more time than he had been locked away. He wondered when he would get to see Hannibal back to his best. The thought of watching Hannibal work was almost as exciting as he was now finding the idea of Hannibal sitting back on this one and watching him. Both his voyeuristic and exhibitionist sides were going to be demanding their own time, it seemed. More than anything though, he wanted to work _alongside_ him. That would have to wait. Tonight was all about Will showing Hannibal exactly what he was willing to do for him.

He turned back to Hannibal to find him watching with undisguised awe and lust, and he knew it wasn't the act itself that was having this effect on the older man; rather, it was watching Will not just embrace his true nature, but _revel_ in it. He cocked his eyebrow again.

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather do this yourself?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer was but wanting to hear it from Hannibal.

“I'm enjoying watching you work far more than I thought I would, Will,” he answered, crouching down to pull out the kit containing his knives and scalpels from the bag. Also nestled in the bag, surrounded by ice, Will knew, was a small container. They wouldn't be taking much today, but it would be up to Will to choose exactly what they did take.

He had always been fond of the liver dishes Hannibal had prepared in Baltimore.

He smiled darkly as Hannibal held out the kit.

“Please, be my guest and choose whichever instrument you would like, Will. I know whichever choice you make will be a most inspired one.”

There was everything from fine scalpels to a heavy hunting knife, but Will thought moderation would be the key here. He selected a slim but wicked looking blade, the edge honed until it caught glints of even the shadowy light that made it into this room. The man on the bed whimpered, a thin, reedy sound. It made Will's lip curl in revulsion. He decided not to waste any more time and slashed down the centre of the man's bare torso. He marvelled at the way the blood flowed out even through that relatively shallow cut, and wondered idly what Hannibal had thought as he watched the same thing happen to Will. He seemed to recall that he had barely looked away from Will's face, but he couldn't trust his own memory, not of that.

Vasquez screamed into his gag, muscles straining as he attempted futilely to pull against his restraints. Will resisted the urge to just knock him out to stop his pathetic whining. He wouldn't know he was being punished and released by his visiting angels – fallen, to be sure, but angels nonetheless – if he was to lose consciousness now. He leaned down to whisper into the body's ear, the body that hadn't yet caught up to the fact that it had died the moment Will and Hannibal had laid eyes on it.

“Do you know why we're here? Because you don't deserve life. You don't deserve the death we're going to give you, either, but we're merciful like that. You are being honoured, elevated. All those people you've mistreated, abused - who knows, maybe worse, though you don't seem the type to have either the imagination or the guts – they'll all be free. Free from you. The world will not mourn you. But we will celebrate your elevation. You should be thanking us.”

He stood once more, turning to pick out a new blade. He knew he couldn't knick the intestines as he opened the man up – he didn't want to spoil the meat. It would be like gutting a fish, he supposed, but he would have Hannibal's steady hand to guide him through any tricky bits.

Slowly the two of them worked together. Will opened Vasquez up further, allowing Hannibal entry to perform the extraction of the liver. Will met Hannibal's eyes over the body, warmth suffusing them. It was a strange bonding experience, but Will knew now that he was finally beyond what used to hold him back. He watched and listened carefully as Hannibal explained where to cut, how to remove the organ, how to pack it away. It was enthralling.

As Hannibal straightened up from returning the container to the bag, he glanced over at the warm body.

“We seem to have lost our Mr Vasquez. A shame, I was hoping he would have lasted a little longer. But we can't be too disappointed, can we?”

“I wanted to do more,” Will said, uncomfortably aware of how tight his pants had gotten, watching Hannibal work. The man was the master of self-assured control. He remembered the first time he had seen Hannibal wielding a scalpel like that. He'd had a similar, though far less strong, reaction that time as well. He wondered if it was possible to have a surgery kink, before deciding it was more to do with watching Hannibal in his element.

“We will have plenty of time for you to hone your skills, Will.”

There was something in the way Hannibal was looking at Will that made him _need_ to touch. He pulled the gloves off, careful not to splash any onto his hands, and reached up to cup Hannibal's cheek. It was the first bit of skin to skin contact they'd had all night, and it was becoming painfully obvious that now that Will had allowed himself to touch Hannibal, it was all he wanted to do.

_Especially_ with the way tonight had focussed all of his energy for hours upon hours, his body a thrumming live wire.

He ran his hands to the back of Hannibal's head, demanding the kiss he needed, and it only took a moment for Hannibal to shed his own gloves and pull Will closer, lips and teeth clashing in uncontrolled desire.

“You said you'd take me here,” Will panted, grinding his very obvious erection against Hannibal's hip.

“I didn't bring anything, Will, I can't just -”

Will cut Hannibal off with another fierce kiss, pulling back again after a few brief seconds to look Hannibal in the eye.

“I did.”

Hannibal narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“In the front of the bag. When you were off stealing the car, I went and got some lube. And some condoms so we don't leave a mess.”

Hannibal's eyes darkened and he nearly growled, his teeth bared.

“You cunning, lust-filled boy,” he rumbled, his hand dropping between them to palm Will's cock. Will groaned, rolling his hips into the pressure.

“Now, Hannibal. I want you now. Please.”

Will was fairly certain it was the please that swayed Hannibal, because he groaned as the sound left Will's lips before spinning him around, pushing them towards the set of drawers against the wall.

“Don't move,” he said, the cold suddenly at Will's back telling him that Hannibal had moved back to the bag. He quickly loosened his pants, pushing them to his ankles and leaning over the draws, legs apart. 

“You wanton, needy thing, Will. You are beautiful.”

It was everything to Will, to hear how torn and broken such simple actions on his part could make Hannibal sound. His hand drifted down to his cock, unable to resist giving it a few tugs. He didn't want nice, not tonight. He wanted Hannibal to take him, claim him in every way, wanted Hannibal to  _make_ Will know that he was his. 

Just as he wanted Hannibal to know that he was Will's.

“Hannibal, please. Now. I need you.”

He could hear the fumbling of the box, condom packets being torn open. Hannibal moved closer, reached around to roll one over Will's cock and he couldn't suppress the shiver of want that ran through him. This wasn't going to be sweet, romantic love-making. This was going to be rough, and it was going to hurt, and he was going to love every single second of it. He was going to make Hannibal know who owned him.

He listened as Hannibal put his own condom on, popped open the bottle and coated his fingers. He returned, pressing his chest against Will's back. One hand looped forward, taking his girth in hand, and then the unexpected coolness of Hannibal's lube coated fingers sliding between his cheeks and finding that sensitive, puckered hole. He keened as the hand encircling his cock began moving, long, slow, measured strokes designed to heighten every sensation but not let him get anywhere near that edge he so longed for.

One long, slim finger gently circled and stroked behind him, always seeming to be just about to breach the entrance but never quite getting there until Will growled in frustration.

“I'm not a glass doll, Hannibal. When I say I want you to take me, _I mean it._ ”

Hannibal moaned at his words, finally giving in and giving Will what he wanted. Will shoved his hips back at the feeling, forcing the finger deeper than Hannibal had intended it to go, and oh how it burned but it was  _glorious._

“Will, you need to slow down, I don't want to hurt -”

Will cut Hannibal off again, tired of being treated like he was a fragile object that would break as soon as be looked at. On one level he could understand Hannibal's hesitancy, but he didn't want any of it.

“ _I want you to hurt me,”_ he hissed. “Just fuck me, Hannibal. _Please._ ”

It was almost all over after that, Hannibal's final shreds of resolve breaking in the face of Will's unbridled want. He thrust his finger in further, faster, Will bucking back against him and then forward again into his other hand, grunting with each new sensation. Just as the burn was dying down again, Hannibal added a second finger, a third joining it soon afterwards.

Without warning the fingers disappeared, and Will prepared himself for what he knew would be a vastly different feeling. Hannibal lined the head of his now slicked up cock against Will's hole, one hand, free hand reaching to take Will's own penis back in hand. Will felt the hesitation, didn't give Hannibal a chance to ask him one more time if he was ready. He pushed back, impaling himself on Hannibal, his eyes watering at the pain but revelling in the feeling of fullness, the shock of Hannibal's hand tightening around his cock and jerking forward. 

They both stood still for a moment, adjusting to the feeling. Hannibal slowly pushed Will forward again, his free hand reaching up to grip Will's shoulder, and he began a strong, steady pace. Will arched his back, overwhelmed with everything that was happening, not wanting any of it to ever stop. The drawers he was leaning over began to move, inching their way across the floor until they reached the wall opposite, Will and Hannibal moving with them.

Will reached back, pulling Hannibal's hips in with each blow. Hannibal for his part reached up and tangled his hand in Will's curls, pulling viciously back. It was all Will could take and he dug his fingers into the flesh of Hannibal's ass as he came, teeth bared and howling. Hannibal grunted and pushed into Will faster, chasing his own orgasm, lifting Will up just enough to be able to bite his shoulder, hard. It was when Will felt the skin break and warmth flood into Hannibal's mouth that the other man froze, locking up as he came inside Will, grunting and moaning as he lapped up the blood flowing from Will's body.

 


	8. Take My Hand and Let Me Follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. Thank you so much, everyone who has stayed with this little fic. I've had loads of fun writing it, and I hope you've had some enjoyment out of reading it. This chapter is a lot quieter & shmoopier than the others, and is more of an epilogue of sorts, but I really liked writing it.
> 
> As always, thank you Khara for being generally awesome. This is for you.
> 
> Unbeta'd, mistakes are my own & apologised for profusely.

_Twelve Months Later_

If there was one thing that Will had never thought he'd see, _ever_ , it was Doctor Hannibal Lecter - the Chesapeake Ripper, Copycat Killer, _Il Mostro di Firenze -_ splashing about a river in waders, shoulder-length hair tied back in a sort of ponytail, and a look of child-like joy on his face as he reeled in a trout. He hadn't expected it, but that's _exactly_ what was occurring in front of him. Of course, he also never thought he'd be so completely, totally, and happily in love with him either, and yet here they were.

“It had better be a good sized one, Hannibal,” he called out from his perch on the riverside, stretched out, shirtless, in the sun. “You said you'd be providing dinner for us tonight, and so far you've caught nothing,” he teased.

“Don't worry, Will,” the doctor called back, mirth filling his voice. “Between this and the ones you've already caught, we'll be eating well.”

Will didn't doubt it. To be fair to Hannibal, he _had_ been providing virtually all of their food in their time in Argentina. Between their hunting – which Will was most certainly improving at – and the money he had hidden away in myriad bank accounts across the world, they had been very well taken care of by Hannibal's resources. That didn't stop Will from wanting to tease Hannibal - in an admittedly flirtatious way - about this one area in which Will's skills _far_ outstripped Hannibal's own. And Hannibal seemed to be loving it.

This wasn't their first fishing trip, but it _was_ the first that had Hannibal throwing himself so whole-heartedly into the endeavour. It pleased Will to see his partner completely embracing something that was such a part of him, in the same way that Will had finally embraced that part of Hannibal.

He watched as Hannibal pulled the fish nearer, curious to see how well he would do landing it. He wasn't at all surprised when Hannibal insisted that he could use the net without Will's help, and continued to be unsurprised when the man deftly manipulated the fish into it, raising it from the water with a decidedly smug look on his face.

“I think will do us, don't you?” he asked, raising the net to show the thrashing fish to Will. Will smiled, slowly rising to his feet to take the fish from Hannibal as he left the river. He didn't miss the way the other man's eyes roamed over his bare body, and he stretched more than he strictly needed to in response. If there was one thing Will had learned about Hannibal it was that the man was utterly insatiable, though he was unfailingly courteous when it came to not pushing Will. It had resulted in Will being forced to be a lot more forward and pushy himself when it came to getting what he wanted, and _god_ did he want Hannibal. All the time, in every possible way.

“So how are we going to eat this fish, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked as he retrieved the fish from Hannibal before preparing it to be packed into the ice container.

“We have some chorizo I made from that insufferable man last month. I had thought we could make chorizo stuffed trout and serve it with lemon and fresh greens. Simple, but the best way to showcase the fresh taste of the fish.”

“I bow to your tastes, as always,” Will replied, his mouth beginning to water at the mere thought of it. Hannibal's home made sausages were always a treat, and pairing them with the trout sounded perfect. He put the lid back on the container, all the fish they had caught safely packed away in ice for the short journey home.

“So what do you want to do to celebrate your first catch?” he asked. Only part of him hoped for a repeat of the celebrations of the night of their first hunt, even if it had resulted in them having to spend longer than they would have liked cleaning the inadvertently left fingerprints off the dresser . A large part, mind, but in truth he was happy to do anything, as long as it was with Hannibal.

“I would like to sit here, I think. I seem to have picked up a fondness for watching the river flow past. It's strangely soothing.”

Will couldn't disagree with him about that. They'd have to get back to the dogs, but the day was still relatively young and they could stay here a while. He grinned, waiting for Hannibal to remove his fishing gear then slotting himself between Hannibal's legs as they sat, leaning back against his chest. Hannibal was right – it was soothing just sitting there, watching the river lazily course it's way along the countryside. Hannibal wrapped one arm around Will, his other hand idly stroking through Will's hair. It was a little longer than he used to keep it, but every time he had cut it Hannibal had narrowed his eyes and looked put out, so he had given in and started growing it out.

And Will couldn't complain, not really, not when he found that he loved the way Hannibal would tug on it whenever they were having sex. It was a win-win situation, he decided.

He had nearly drifted off, the warmth of the sun combining with the gentle caresses of Hannibal's fingers across his scalp to relax him out of consciousness, when he gradually became aware of Hannibal having shifted, the hair stroking stopping in favour of playing with Will's hand. He forced his eyes open to see what Hannibal was up to this time.

The other man was gently splaying out Will's fingers, his own lightly skimming the skin as he ran them up and down each digit. The action unexpectedly caused Will's stomach to turn flips, and he stretched out his fingers to make it easier for Hannibal to keep going. Gradually Hannibal worked his way up Will's arm, fingertips dancing gently over Will's collar bone, down over his bare chest and stomach before returning to his hand. Will reached back with his right hand, tangling fingers in the loose strands that had fallen free from Hannibal's lackadaisically tied hair. Hannibal tipped his head forward as Will flexed his own back, falling back into their usual position of Hannibal nuzzling behind Will's ear. He continued working on Will's hand, softly massaging the tender spot below Will's thumb, then running his way along each finger.

It was nice, sensual and loving, and Will drank in every moment of it. He couldn't move, encased as he was in Hannibal's arms as he used both hands now to caress every centimetre of Will's left hand.

It was more than fine.

Hannibal shifted, threading their fingers together, his right hand in Will's left. Will could feel him leaning back, reaching for something behind him. A drink, probably, he thought, and was then surprised when Hannibal straightened back up with nothing but a long blade of grass. He huffed out a laugh which was quickly muffled when Hannibal twisted their heads to steal a kiss, a playful glint in his eye. They broke apart, smiling, and Will returned to the way he was, leaning his head back onto Hannibal's shoulder. The other man planted kisses along the exposed curve of his neck as he took Will's hand back; the same one, and while Will would have quite liked Hannibal to give the other one some attention he wasn't going to complain just yet.

Once again Hannibal extended Will's fingers out, but this time he took the grass he had picked and wrapped it, almost hesitantly, around Will's ring finger. Will's breath caught, and he suddenly became aware of how quickly Hannibal's heart had begun to pound. His own was answering in kind.

“I'll pick you out a more permanent one, if you like the look of it,” Hannibal whispered into Will's ear, voice perfectly even but the faint tremor Will felt running through him betrayed his real feelings. “If you don't -”

“I do,” Will interrupted, not caring to hear the rest of that sentence. “I do like the look of it. But you can only pick one out for me if I pick one out for you.”

“That seems fair,” Hannibal said, his grip on Will tightening noticeably. “It wouldn't be legal, of course -”

“I don't care,” Will responded, neither noticing nor caring that he wasn't letting Hannibal finish any of his sentences. “Since when have either of us cared about other people's rules, when it comes to doing what we love?”

“Never,” Hannibal murmured softly, fingers twining through Will's.

 


End file.
